


If You Fall (I'll Be There)

by Walsingham



Category: Australian Comedians RPF, The Umbilical Brothers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 22:59:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walsingham/pseuds/Walsingham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During one of the Umbilical Brothers' live shows, David falls off the stage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Fall (I'll Be There)

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone can think of a better title than 'If You Fall (I'll Be There)', I'd be happy to hear it.  
> Except from Tayla. *watches you*
> 
> EDIT: I don't ship David and Shane particularly, though I wouldn't object if anything happened. They're practically brothers, it just doesn't feel right.

   Shane yelled at David, saying he couldn't hold onto the building much longer. David yelled back, telling him to not let go, occasionally slipping into his Arnold Schwarzenegger voice to tease more laughter from their audience. Shane let go of the edge of the stage and pushed himself away on his office chair, grabbing onto David's ankle as he went past.

   "It's going to blow!" Shane Schwarzenegger said.

   "It's not going to blow," David Schwarzenegger replied, rolling his desk chair side to side slightly.

   "Get to the chopper!"

   "A chopper would be very handy right now, but instead, we're going to die!"

   Then David let go of the stage and pushed himself backwards. Shane held a microphone to his mouth and made the sound of wind whipping past them as they 'fell'. David rolled to the front of the stage, arms out like he was riding the wind. His foot caught on the floor and pushed him further than he meant to. With a loud 'Fuck!', he fell off the stage, his chair falling on top of him.

   There was dead silence as Shane rolled over to where he had fallen off.

   "You all right mate?" Shane asked warily. David didn't reply for a moment.

   "Yep, I'm fine," he said finally, straightening up. He pushed his hair behind his ears and jumped back up onto the stage, pulling his chair up with him. The audience clapped as he lay back down on his chair. Shane rolled over to him and covers his microphone. David did the same.

   "Do you want to get someone to look at that?" Shane asked, tapping his temples. David looked confused.

   "What? What's wrong?" he replied, lifting his hand on his temple. When he looked at his hand again, dark red blood was staining his fingers. Only then did he feel warm blood dripping down his face and saw it slowly pool on the floor in front of him. He shook his head and wiped his hand on his jeans.

   And so they continued with the show. Shane kept an eye on his friend, noticing the audiences whispering as they saw David's head wound. He noticed a new limp as he walked. David's reactions got slower, and he became less energetic. Occasionally, he'd lose his breath and have to pause to regain it. Sometimes he'd just have to hold Shane's shoulder as vertigo overcame him. His shirt was more red than blue, and Shane kept asking if he wanted to stop, but David would just shake his head, insisting that 'the show must go on'. The last hour passed painfully slowly, but they were eventually lying on their backs, sprawled out on the stage.

   Shane jumped up and bowed to the clapping audience. He turned to David and froze.

   David was still lying on the floor. Half his face was covered in crusted and fresh blood, and strands of hair were stiff from dried blood. His damp shirt was clinging to his form.

   Shane fell to his knees beside his friend, yelling at the backstage crew to get help. He searched for David's pulse, eventually finding it beating very faintly in his wrist. The voice of Tina could be heard asking people to leave the room. The first-aider on hand ran out onto the stage with his bag of equipment.

   "I said he should have stopped when he sustained the head wound, but did anyone listen? No, and now he could die!" the first-aider said, pushing Shane aside. Shane saw the doctors nametag read Edgar. He watched as Edgar leant over David.

   "Listen, mate, I know David better than anyone. He would never leave a show unfinished, even if it could kill him. This is his life," Shane said, glaring at the back of Edgar's head.

   "Whatever. Not important right now. Has an ambulance been called?"

   "Yes, ETA two minutes," said a back-stage hand. Shane didn't know his name.

   "Is he going to be okay?" Shane asked. He rest his hand lightly on David's thigh.

   "There is a chance, yes, but I'm afraid that there is a greater chance that there will be lasting brain damage, and a chance, however small, he won't come out of it alive," Edgar said, his voice softening.

   Shane felt tears run down his cheeks. He hurriedly wiped them away with his free hand just as paramedics ran onto the stage, carrying a stretcher between them. In a flash, David was on the stretcher, tied down, and the paramedics left again.

   Shane tried to run after them, but the ambulance doors were shut just as he burst out of the backstage door. Edgar hurried after him and grabbed his arm to stop him chasing after the ambulance.

   "We'll follow behind in my car," Edgar said, leading Shane away. They tried to keep up with the ambulance, but Edgar was limited to the road rules.

   Shane leapt out of the car the moment Edgar pulled up at the front of the hospital. Edgar drove away to park, but promised he'd be in soon.

   "David Collins?" Shane asked, tapping his foot impatiently as the receptionist typed the name into her computer.

   "Floor 3, room 341," she said, looking up, but Shane was already at the elevators. He waited there a moment, but then decided to take the stairs.

   He ran up them, two at a time, until he saw the door marked '3'. He ran through the door andin the direction he assumed room 341 was in. Soon enough, he found it. He took a moment to catch his breath and regain his composure before opening the door.

   There were four beds in the room, three of which were empty. The fourth bed had the curtains closed around it. It was the bed furthest from the door. A doctor walked up to him, clutching a clipboard.

   "You can see him now," she said, then she left . Shane walked slowly up to the curtains, his mind racing to conclusions of what he might find. He stopped in front of the curtains, took a deep breath, and pulled the curtains back.

   David was lying on the bed in front of him. His bloodied shirt had been removed, but they hadn't put him in a hospital gown yet. There was a bruise on his stomach where the chair had landed on him. Blood still stained his face and chest and stuck in his hair.

   Tubes were stuck into David's arms and nose, but Shane didn't know what any of them were for. He looked at his friends face. David's eyes were closed, and there was a bandage wrapped around his head, covering the wound. His usually bouncy hair was confined under the bandages.

   Shane could feel more tears threatening, and he sat down heavily in the chair beside the bed. He held David's hand that was closest to him and let the tears flow. No one could see. Even if they could, he wouldn't care. His best friend was lying beside him and possibly facing death. He was allowed to cry.

   "Sh-Shane," a voice croaked. Shane started and looked around. There was no one else around, so either he imagined it or...

   "Sh-Shane," the voice came again. Shane looked over at David. David's eyes were scrunched shut, like he didn't want to open them.

   "David? David! It's okay, I'm here," Shane replied, turning to him.

   "Shane."

   "Yes, it's me, mate. I'm here."

   "Shane, I'm scared."

   "Scared of what, David?"

   "Scared that if I open my eyes, I'll find out it's a dream. That I'm still sleeping. That I won't wake up."

   "You're awake now. I'm here. I'm holding your hand. I won't let you go until you're safe."

   "Promise?"

   "Promise."

   Shane felt David's grip on his hand tighten as he slowly opened his eyes. Shane felt David start to panic when he couldn't immediately see him, so, with his free hand, he gently turned David's head toward him.

   "See? You're okay now. You're safe," Shane said softly.

   "The doctors said I was going to die. I heard  them while I slept. I was scared that they were right," David whispered, looking at Shane as if he were looking for chinks in armour.

   "You sure showed them!" Shane said, laughing. David frowned, feeling he was being patronised, which only made Shane laugh more. Soon, David couldn't help himself, and he joined in, relieved he wasn't dreaming.

   Outside, Edgar was watching the proceedings through a window. He saw them laughing, and know it was going to be alright. David wasn't showing any signs of brain damage, and definitely wasn't going to die anytime soon. Though Shane didn't always show it, Edgar knew he wasn't strong enough to face the death of his best friend.

   Edgar walked away, smiling to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Kudos + concrit always welcome!  
> xxx


End file.
